Author's Note: I forgot to put in a disclaimer. I don't own it. I'm making no money. This is meant as entertainment only.

I've been told that Will's tenure as Captain of the Dutchman was ten years, and he was released at the end of that first ten years. Nice idea, but I still don't buy that Elizabeth would accept the initial deal. She wouldn't have known it was going to be just ten years, and she's not a patient woman. Will might believe it was duty or something, but I think Little Lizzie would be less than willing to accept the scenario. Certainly, I don't want to accept it. As for the rest of this story, I have it mostly written, but I'm still fiddling with it.

I'm not sure exactly how long this will be. I'm still working out details. Please review. I write faster when I know someone's reading.

Beyond World's End by Ecri

Chapter 3

Anticipation made her angry and impatient. Anger had all but consumed her since she realized that Jack Sparrow had died. Tia Dalma had long ago discovered that he wasn't what she'd thought he was, but she also knew he was necessary to her plans. Leading Will Turner to her was a good start, but she needed Jack to pull this off completely. She could not defeat her enemies without him. Her rage at learning of Jack's passing had become a scream that those who heard it assumed was grief at the passing of the Pirate Captain. When she finally calmed herself, she had a plan. She'd brought Barbossa back from the dead. It had been a painstaking process, and had taken much time and energy. She had only succeeded in reviving him when she'd learned of Sparrow's demise. Now she would try the same with Captain Jack Sparrow.

Retrieving Sparrow from Davy Jones' Locker would be a much more hazardous and difficult undertaking, but she would not be denied. With the two Pirate captains owing their lives to her, she would have the means of forcing taking what was her due.

She stared at the water, and tossed her claws again and again, but could find no hint of Jack Sparrow's condition. She had not told the others that there was a chance that Sparrow might not have survived the trip to the Locker. Some did not. Physically, he would be there, but only time would tell if his mind would survive whatever it and the Locker conjured for the Pirate Captain to endure. She had no thought yet if young Turner would survive Sao Feng's camp, and so she had passed along the knife. It would, she hoped, protect him when she could not.

Will Turner was important certainly, but he was not the only one to whom the burden could be given. True, he was a beautiful man, and one that had stirred emotions she had not felt in a long time. His looks surpassed even Davy Jones in his original form. Never had she seen a man so handsome…unless it be Jack Sparrow himself.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she remembered her first meeting with Captain Jack. He had been a new Captain then, testing boundaries and yearning to make a name for himself, and his looks had beguiled her almost as much as had Will Turner's when she had first laid eyes upon him.

Sparrow had come to her searching for treasure. She had never been sure that he knew who and what she was before that first meeting, but by the time he left her, he knew many of her secrets. Many, but not all.

Barbossa had been with him, and Bootstrap Bill Turner, as well as Cutler Beckett. Ah, Beckett! She had dreamed of him just before Sparrow had brought Will Turner to her. Yes, she saw Beckett's hand in the events that surrounded her. Beckett's ambition had not waned in all these years. If anything it had grown. Fed by whatever achievements he'd managed, roused by both his successes and his failures, Beckett's ambition had become his reason for living. She could no longer ignore him.

When she had first met the foursome—Barbossa, Beckett, Bootstrap, and Sparrow—she had found them amusing. Barbossa had not come to his own Captaincy as of yet, and jealousy was his chief motivator. Beckett sought glory. Bootstrap, well, the Senior Mr. Turner had two desires. The sea had won his heart, but his thoughts were ever on his family.

Sparrow had been her favorite--his charm, his looks, the twinkle of his eye. He could almost make her forget her misery, and for that she had made a trade. She had allowed him to believe that he'd gotten more than she'd intended, but she'd wanted him to have it. She needed him to have it. The compass was a dangerous tool if used by the wrong kind of man. She'd seen immediately that Beckett had wanted it, and that had been curious. She could have destroyed it to be sure he'd never get it. She could have kept it to be sure it was not within his reach. Ah, but giving the compass to Jack would torture Beckett. She enjoyed that.

It had been Sparrow's plan to seek her out. He had brought the others, who served upon his ship, most likely to bolster his own courage. He was a young man to be a Captain, and yet she saw that he was capable of achieving all that he wanted if he could only decide what that was.

Tia Dalma had been sitting alone, using whatever means available to forget her own sorrows. Sparrow's entrance was not unexpected. She had seen someone coming, but had not cared who it was. When she had seen him, her have drunken, half drugged stupor cleared a bit. The token on the scarf upon his head, visible when he doffed his hat, drew her eyes to it as a flame drew moths.

She stared at it, then at him, then back again. Pulling her gaze back to his eyes, she allowed herself a small, welcoming smile. "Well, Captain! What is it ye want?"

He blinked, perhaps not expecting the question or perhaps searching for meaning hidden within her thick accent. "Well, Lass, I'm searching, as most pirates do, for treasure."

"Dere be many t'ings dat men count as treasure."

Jack blinked again. "Yes, true." He admitted this as he seemed to hunt for words to persuade her to tell him what he wanted to know.

"So, den, Jack Sparrow, what treasure do ye mean when ye speak o'treasure?"

"The treasure I mean when I say treasure is the most expensive kind…what any good pirate captain…at least the greedy, lustful captains…would be glad to own. Gold, jewels, precious and rare objects…"

She laughed. "And what ye be willin' ta barter for such information?"

Barbossa drew his sword. "Yer life!"

Tia Dalma scowled at him her anger at his words and manner obvious. Before she had done a thing in retaliation, Sparrow stepped between her and the bare blade. He turned to address Barbossa.

"Now, Hector, let's not do anything stupid…"

Barbossa glared at Sparrow. "You don't even know she has any idea where to find any treasure!"

"She does, mate. Trust me."

As the two tossed words around, Tia Dalma studied the other two. One was called Bootstrap. He seemed a decent sort, and for a moment she thought he, and not Sparrow might be what she needed. The hope died newborn as she realized her folly with a toss of the lobster claws. A man in love with the sea yet torn by the thought of his child growing up without him wouldn't be willing to give up what little he had just because she asked it of him.

Cutler Beckett, on the other hand, wasn't remotely to be considered. His steely gaze had not wavered from her face since he had entered the cabin. She stared at him in turn now and realized that, though the other two deferred to Sparrow—regardless of how reluctantly Barbossa did it—Cutler Beckett had his own agenda. She smiled encouragingly. She might be able to use him after all.

"Ye seek dat which Sparrow does not."

He scoffed. "What do you know of what I seek?"

She approached him and placed a hand over his heart. "I know enough. You t'ink only of…" she gasped. Her eyes moved to his and her mouth hung open in shock. She whispered the words wondering how she'd missed this when he'd first entered. "Domination not enough for de likes of you. Ye seek glory …" that wasn't right. She shook her head, frowning. "No, ye seek Power. You crave a power not wielded in dis world since de dawn of time. You t'ink it be rightly yours. You will wrest it from 'im dead fingers if you can."

Beckett did not seem startled by her words. His own grin—for it could not be called a smile—was feral and dark. "I take what is mine." He took her hand, the one still resting lightly on his chest, and squeezed it tightly enough to cause pain, to crush bone. "I take all there is," he said, allowing a ferocity into his words. "…and I give nothing back."

She tore her hand from his grip, expecting to find it bleeding and broken, but surprised to find it whole and unharmed. She backed away from him, her eyes still locked on his. "You brought dem here. Dey tink it was dere idea, but it was you."

"Knowledge is power. I want what you can give me."

"I can give ye not'ing."

He smiled. "Then let me pay you for it." He pulled a knife from his belt and held it so she could see it while keeping it out of her reach. It was a small blade, easily concealed in a man's hand. The hilt was worn, but there was a small symbol carved into it; the symbol for immortality.

"Where did ye get dat?" Her voice was a whisper, but her eyes were flames.

"That is a long story I've no inclination to share. What I want in exchange is knowledge. You know the best ways I might amass the power I seek. What must I do? What do I need to know? Do you have books? Legends?"

Barbossa, Bootstrap, and Sparrow were still arguing, but Tia Dalma paid them no mind. She crossed to a small shelf to the rear of the room and reached for a book. The black spine was unmarked except for the same small symbol that adorned the knife hilt. She hesitated a moment, but forced herself to bring it down from the shelf. She walked slowly back to him, scowling. "Dis is not somet'ing te play wit. Ye be sure ye want it, for dere be no turnin' back once ye've read the like of dis."

She held it out to him, and just as he reached out for it, she snatched it back. "Give me 'im blade if ye be wantin' 'im book."

He held it out to her and each of them tore the object they desired from the other's grip.

It was only then that Sparrow turned to Tia Dalma. "What do you want in exchange for the location of a treasure that will make me and my crew very wealthy?"

Tia Dalma shook off her unease at her confrontation with Beckett and smiled a smile of lust and longing. "One night, Jack Sparrow…"

Jack's eyes widened in surprise and he took her hand. "Don't wait up," he tossed over his shoulder as they moved together toward the stairs.

That had been the first time Sparrow had ever foiled her plans. They'd made love and she'd rested her hand on his chest, over his heart for much of it. If she could control this boy-Captain, she could find a way to deal with the Brethren Court.

Just at the point where she was about to mark him as hers, his hand gripped her wrist and forced it from his chest. She looked up into his eyes, startled even by this much defiance.

The grin was back upon his face. He'd worn it downstairs as he'd entered and introduced himself, and now he spoke to her with the expression of someone who knows beyond any doubt that he controlled the situation. "Whatever it is you're doing, Tia Dalma, I'd save it for someone else." Slowly he twisted her wrist until she almost cried out in surprise and pain.

Her eyes locked onto his, which seemed to be laughing at her, but there was understanding, compassion, and sympathy there as well. "I'm flattered," he admitted. "I didn't think I'd be what you sought, and truly, I don't think I quite fit the bill, but I'm flattered you thought highly enough of me to try it." His eyes sparkled with humor and with excitement.

"What de ye know, Sparrow?"

He sighed then, not releasing her hand. "I know the prophecy, and I know I'd help you if I could, but as I can't, I'll take what you promised."

"I asked for one night. Ye haven't been here dat long. Wait until mornin'."

He nodded. "That's fair."

"What d'ya know about 'fair'? What d'ya know about me?"

Sparrow smiled, but it was different from the grin he'd used earlier in front of his friends. There was a sadness here that told her he knew more than she'd suspected.

"I'm sure I don't know everything, but what I've learned is…interesting. You, for instance, aren't what you seem."

"Few are."

He nodded, conceding the point. "True, but there's a menace to you. A fury that can own you if you let it."

She laughed. "That's not true of you, den, Captain Jack Sparrow? Rage over injustice wouldn't own you?"

"Nothing owns me."

She laughed again, but when she would have spoken he interrupted her.

"I'm not what you're seeking."

"So you said. How do you know what I seek?"

He shrugged. "I know all my father had to tell."

"D'ya now?" She smiled, hoping he would doubt himself, but if he did, it didn't show. She changed the subject. "I know what you seek, Jack Sarrow."

"I told you that. Treasure." His eyes twinkled in anticipation of the gold and jewels that would soon be his.

She climbed from her bed and crossed to a small table in the corner. He watched as she picked up the compass she had decided to give to him. She held it out to him. "Dis will point to what you want."

"Heart's desire sort of thing?"

"No. Dat is a different, more powerful sort of magic. Dis points to what you want at the moment dat you 'old it."

"I want treasure," Jack insisted reaching his hand out to take it, eyes wide.

She held it just out of his reach. "Can you be trusted, Jack Sparrow, wit de magic I offer."

Sparrow grinned. "Pirate."

"Den why should I give it to you?"

"Is there some other pirate you trust more? I'm a man of my word. How many pirates can say that?"

She smiled knowing he wasn't being completely honest, but among the others who made up the Brethren Court, he could easily be considered most honest. She nodded her head and handed the compass to him.

In the course of that night, she'd learned that he had known what to expect from her. He'd been told much about her past, and she found it amusing to fill in the gaps…somewhat. His father had despised her, and he'd told all he could to his son, whether from familial obligation or—more likely—because Jack had found a way to force it out of him, she had not discovered.

Sparrow had been right about one thing. He hadn't been quite what she needed, but it had been so long since she'd found one as close as him that she'd had to try.

She broke from her reverie shaking off the memories as her mind supplied the image of Will Turner…the one man in all these years who could indeed be what she needed. She tossed the claws again, but they told her nothing. She looked across the water to where she knew he was, but felt nothing. Waiting, she realized, was worse than she'd ever imagined.

**

Sao Feng felt his fury rise. He held the slip of paper in his hand. Barbossa's ugly scrawl adorned the sheet requesting a meeting. He was certain this was somehow related to the boy who'd tried to take his charts. Did Barbossa think him a fool? Sao Feng allowed his rage to overtake him. Barbossa had long been a thorn in his side, almost as bad as Sparrow. He'd thought Barbossa had died some years ago, and was displeased to learn this was untrue. He would have to prepare a greeting for them. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. Yes, a reunion between the boy and Barbossa. Something to prove to that infuriating man that Sao Feng was not to be fooled with. He knew Barbossa likely had no attachment or concern for the tool of his folly, but that was inconsequential. The reunion would show only that Barbossa was not able to trick Sao Feng. The only thing to decide now was if the boy should be alive for the reunion, and how long he should permit Barbossa to live afterwards.

Before he made that decision, he would interrogate the prisoner himself. It had been some time since someone had tried to cross him. His own people knew better. This boy could provide some distraction and perhaps serve as further proof of his own superiority.

Yes, he would interrogate the prisoner. He would see how he could make the boy scream.

**

Will had been imprisoned before though now that he thought of it only in the years since he had met Captain Jack Sparrow. Sao Feng's prison was not much better or worse than others he'd seen, though the stakes now were higher than he liked to play. His failure could cause problems for Elizabeth, and he could only hope that Barbossa might change his mind and leave her aboard the ship. Of course, that didn't seem much safer to him, especially should he and Barbossa not return. He'd been caught last night. When they'd pried the dog's body, what was left of it, off him and dragged him away, Will had been unable to fight. Now, after who knew how many hours in this darkened room with no food or water, he was in no condition to force his way out. He lay there, trying to work off the ropes they'd bound him with, but succeeded only in bloodying his wrists. His throat was parched and sore, and his stomach rumbled loudly, yet his only thoughts were for Elizabeth. The best scenario he could envision was that Sao Feng would refuse to see Barbossa, and then he and Elizabeth would find some other way to save Jack. There were worse ways to die than in a Singapore prison. He'd seen some of them. Worst case would be if Sao Feng agreed to see Barbossa, and they walked into some trap. If Elizabeth lost her life because of him, he could never forgive himself. Of course, he didn't expect to live long

either way.

The door was thrown open crashing into the wall. Startled, Will looked up, blinking in the torchlight. Sao Feng stared down at him. It could be no one else. Sao Feng spoke, and Will stared up at him, blinking, his eyes tearing from the sudden bright light of the torches. Sao Feng barked something at him, but Will shook his head. Sao Feng knew he couldn't understand him. It was just an excuse for what was to come.

Sao Feng kicked him viciously in the stomach, and Will curled in a ball gasping desperately for air, and unable to take any in. Sao Feng gestured to his men and two of them appeared on either side of him, hauling him to his feet. Still gasping for air, he looked in Sao Feng's general direction, hoping to be able to anticipate what would happen next.

"You are with Barbossa."

"No." Will whispered, barely able to get enough air in his lungs to croak out the word.

A slap across the face followed.

"You are with Barbossa."

"Don't know him."

Sao Feng stared Will in the eye. "I will make you scream."

Will returned the gaze. "That's as may be, but I can tell you nothing." It was the truth. Will could tell him nothing. Telling might endanger Elizabeth, and he could no more willingly do that than he could train himself not to breathe the air. Truth or no, it did not work on Sao Feng.

The Pirate Lord stared at Will a moment his scowl changing slowly to a smile full of venom and the promise of pain. "If that is true, boy, then you will wish it were not before I am through with you."

Will knew he meant every word.

Will was dragged to another room. They didn't beat him, which only convinced him they had something worse in mind. He was right.

They tied him to the yoke and, forcing him into the vat of water, pushed him below the waterline. He'd hardly had a moment and had been in the midst of a breath when his head hit water. The men were strong, and though he struggled as much as he was able, he did not feel the pole give at all. Just when he thought his lungs would burst he was hauled to his feet to stand dripping in the vat. Again and again, dunking and standing, they pulled him in and out of the water. He inhaled more than a little water, and often came up sputtering when they allowed him up.

Then they plunged him below and though he struggled, they did not let him up. In desperation, he forced his limbs to still thinking they might let him up if they thought him dead. He began to realize that was a bad idea when his lungs burned and his limbs felt heavy. The irony of dying while pretending to be dead was not lost on him.

**

Elizabeth and Barbossa argued. Incessantly and continuously they bandied back and forth with details of their plan insisting and bargaining and parleying until Barbossa glared at the girl. "Are ye sure ye weren't born to Pirates and kidnapped by the Governor of Port Royal?"

Thoughts of her father were quickly shoved aside. Elizabeth could not spare the emotional upheaval thinking of him would cause. She worried for him. She hoped he'd returned to England to elicit help against Beckett, but if he hadn't, which she thought more likely, would Beckett have thrown him in prison? Would he have had him hung? She blinked back the emotion and glared at Barbossa. "Are we agreed?"

"We are. Go and get yourself dressed."

Elizabeth disappeared below decks slipping into the strange little outfit they'd prepared for her. The hat was odd, but it would help hide her hair and for that she was grateful. Once dressed, she braided it quickly, perched the hat atop her head and joined Barbossa on deck.

Her only thoughts were of Will. She had hoped to see him back aboard ship before they had to speak to Sao Feng, but he hadn't returned. She did not allow herself to wonder if things had gone wrong.

Elizabeth and Barbossa stood before Sao Feng having been disarmed and searched in what Elizabeth considered an overly enthusiastic manner. Now, as Sao Feng revealed that he was aware someone had tried to steal his charts, she was overwhelmed with fear for Will.

"I assure you it had nothing to do with me!" Barbossa insisted.

Sao Feng flung his accusations at Barbossa, while Elizabeth tried to appear unconcerned. That was shattered when Will was hauled to his feet from a vat of water standing in the corner. She hadn't even realized the thing was full of water until Will stood, tied to some heavy beam or yoke, and sputtering for breath. Her eyes wide, she stared at him fighting the urge to run to his side.

Sao Feng's next gambit worked perfectly as he moved to run Will through, and, though feigning indifference moments before, Elizabeth was unable to stifle her shocked and terrified gasps as she thought she was seeing her love murdered before her eyes. Her relief when the Pirate Lord turned and Will was still standing made her knees tremble.

Will stole a glance then, and her eyes were drawn to his like a moth to flame. He was her flame, she realized. Without him, she was cold and alone. With him, she was alive and passionate. Her mind reeled as she tried to think of ways to get Sao Feng to release him.

Sao Feng spoke still to Barbossa, accusing him of everything and anything it seemed. When he threatened to kill one of his own men, she heard Barbossa sputter that the man was not one of his, but it was Will's voice that drew her attention.

"If he's not with us and he's not with you, who's he with?"

When the fighting broke out, Elizabeth tried to work her way to Will's side, impressed that he was able to take several pirates down using the yoke as a weapon while still tied to it. Unable to reach him, she tossed a blade to him when he managed somehow to free himself.

The melee had a life of its own, and Elizabeth was shocked and surprised when she ran out of adversaries. She spun around in a tight circle searching for an opponent, whirling around, her instinct to fight resurrected when a hand gripped her wrist. He sword was met with a clang, and she experienced a rush of emotion as she stared at Will over their crossed blades.

"Will…" the word was a whisper, almost a prayer, and the emotion that went with it wouldn't let her utter another word. In unison, they dropped their blades and embraced, kissing fiercely.

Barbossa impatiently pried them apart. "We've no time for sentimental reunions."

She saw he was right, but when Will nearly blushed, much as he used to when they'd known each other in Port Royal before pirates had torn their way into their lives, she smiled at him and refused to release his hand pleased when he didn't pull away too hard.

They made their way aboard ship with promises of help and a crew complement of Sao Feng's men quicker than Elizabeth could follow. It was up to Barbossa to read the charts now. They could go no further until he deciphered them.

Will cornered her below decks. She was not ready for a confrontation, but she was worried for him. "Will," she wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words.

"Elizabeth,"

She could see the relief in his eyes that she was well. "Are you hurt?" She had to know.

He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Elizabeth."

"Are you certain?" She took a step closer to him, but he stepped back. "Have I…" done something, she wanted to ask, but of course she had. She was a murderer. "Are you…"

He took a step closer. "Forgive me, Elizabeth. I'm not seriously hurt. I'll be fine."

She felt a smile tug at her mouth. "Which isn't to say you're fine now."

He laughed softly, and she thought his smile might be genuine now. "Perhaps not, but I am none the worse for wear." He looked her over. "You should get some rest. I'm sure things are about to get interesting."

Elizabeth nodded. "That was the easy part."

She stepped aside to let him by. When, she wondered, had things gotten so awkward between them? She knew the answer of course. It had started after Jack had died…after she had killed him.

Permitting an indulgently loud sigh, she turned to her bunk and settled into it. She knew she wouldn't so much as doze, but a bit of rest would be just as good. She was asleep instantly.

**

Jack Sparrow stared at Poseidon Jack. "God of the Ocean, are you? If you're Poseidon, what are you doin' here? Haven't you noticed?" He gestured wildly over the side of the Pearl. "No ocean!"

He turned and walked away, but Poseidon Jack followed. "I know that! I'm here because they'll be here soon…to get you…and I need to let you know something."

"No one's coming to get me, mate. Proves you're not much into omniscience for an all-knowing, all-seeing God, now are you?" He walked away again, a triumphant smile on his face.

That's when the ship began to move. He peered over the side. No water. "Hmmmm. That's interesting."

Poseidon clapped a hand on his arm. "They're coming for you, Jack. You do have friends, even if you won't admit it."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do…I don't have time for this."

"There you are being stupid again. If you're a God, you have all the time in the world!"

"We're not in the world, Jack. We're in the Locker. We're past World's End."

"Right."

"So, will you listen to me?"

"Make me."

"All right." He disappeared. Jack looked around, but he was gone. "Um…how are you going to make me if you go and disappear like that?"

There was no answer.

"Hellooo?"

This could have been easier Jack, but if this is how you need to do it, this is how we'll do it.

"Where are ye?"

In your head.

"Must be lonely in there. All cobwebby and dark." He shuddered.

You need this, Jack. You need to carry something with you. Believe me. It's necessary.

"What is it I'm to take? Hmmm? There's nothing here for you to give me!"

But that's where you're wrong…

Jack listened as he, posing as the God of the Sea pretended to give him something, though there was nothing there to give, or take, or whatever. When it was finally over, and he seemed alone again, Jack felt his ship shake. Running to the rail, he peered over the edge to see why, but instead of solving the riddle, he fell overboard.

"Heck of a way to spend eternity, chasing a ship across the sand." He said as he raced after the Pearl.

To Be Continued